


With or Without You

by DragonGirl420



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl420/pseuds/DragonGirl420
Summary: Reader waits for Dean at the agreed upon place, but he never shows. She returns every six months in the hopes he will turn up one day. This is her last shot, or so she tells herself and reminisces about how she came to know Dean Winchester.





	With or Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 4471
> 
> Warnings: Light Smut, Some Language, Angst, Poorly written fluff
> 
> Summary: Reader waits for Dean at the agreed upon place, but he never shows. She returns every six months in the hopes he will turn up one day. This is her last shot, or so she tells herself and reminisces about how she came to know Dean Winchester.
> 
> A/N: It’s been a while since writing any fics, and wanted to write something for my friend @kazosa in celebration of her major accomplishments as of late! So proud of you, btw!!! Anywho, I don’t know if its any good, but enjoy! Oh, also loosely based on ‘With Or Without You’ by U2.

You waited for more than eight hours this time. Dean promised he would be there, but you knew when he made that promise that he couldn’t be sure and keep it. In his line of work, there was no way he could guarantee anything that far into the future. It had been well over a year now, and that was a hell of a long time; especially when your last name was Winchester.

Eight long hours had passed since you maneuvered your car into the parking lot of the diner. Waiting inside for most of that chunk of time, you’d consumed more caffeine in that day than ever before. Nerves on edge, you decided to wait outside. When the rain started, you barely felt it, your mind a million miles away and wondering if he was going to show up.

You tried every cell number you had; hell, you even called Sam and Castiel again and again; neither answered. Dean had made sure you had every number possible before leaving you. While pacing in the rain, you called each one repeatedly until your cell battery drained completely, leaving you at the mercy of the last living payphone in a fifty-mile radius.

Still, nothing.

Resigning yourself to the idea that Dean wasn’t going to show again, you finally shuffled to the driver’s side door of the Camaro and plopped down on the dark leather seat. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“Where are you, Dean?” you said, choking his name in a pathetic whisper. “Why… why aren’t you here?”

Lifting your head and wiping at the few stray tears rolling down your cheek, you sighed deeply. Realizing that he wasn’t going to show, you turned the key in the ignition and felt the purr of the engine through your entire body.

The rumble of the motor only made you think of him; the mysterious stranger that entered your life the year before, without warning, and turned everything upside down. He was the one who found you the car, after all. Abandoned on the property behind the north fields, it sat, left by your great uncle years beforehand. He fixed it up for you, showed you how to rebuild the motor and even how to do bodywork.

The summer Dean and Sam rented the boathouse, you spent more time at your family’s estate than ever before, solely because you were enamored with both Winchester brothers. Ultimately though, it was Dean that finally won you over with his sultry smile and how he would clench his jaw when he was being super intense.

They claimed to be traveling writers, doing a story on haunted houses of the Midwest, but it didn’t take long for you to uncover their true intentions of wanting to find the cause of the accidental deaths on the generously-sized property.

As the engine continued to run, you found yourself unable to put the car in gear and leave the parking lot. The idea that he could show at any second kept you firmly stuck in place.

Staring at the windshield, you allowed your mind to wander back to the summer before last, when you fell in love with a surly hunter named Dean Winchester.

 

xxx

 

“Do you really think that I would not figure this out?” you asked angrily, pacing the wooden floor of the bar, with your hands on your hips as the two men stared at you anxiously.

Your expression was clear, and Dean chuckled nervously. “Well, I mean, it’s not entirely a lie…”

“How’s that now?”

“We are traveling… brothers. And we are looking into haunted houses, occasionally. The only real lie is that we don’t write about it. ‘Cause, seriously, that’d just be nuts.”

Sam smacked him in the arm and huffed in annoyance.

“Look, Y/N, ignore him, please. Can we sit a second? I can explain everything,” Sam pleaded, motioning to the table. “Please, five minutes. Tops.”

Looking at them, you hesitantly nodded and slipped onto the bench seat as Sam did the same opposite you. Dean reached over to the bar and grabbed the open bottle of whiskey with three shot glasses before sitting beside Sam.

You listened, and drank, as the brothers explained in detail what they really did for a living and why they ended up at the boathouse. Each time they would present a new element, you found yourself just wanting to take another shot, unable to really believe in what they were saying.

“Your family is cursed,” Dean offered bluntly as Sam was stammering to find the right words. “With all the deaths that have happened, we thought maybe someone sold their soul, but—”

“Whoa… sold their soul? To whom?”

“Demons.”

“Demons?”

“Mhm. Black-eyed sonsabitches. They make a deal, give you whatever you want. Then in ten years, they send the hellhounds after you and your soul goes to Hell,” Dean answered nonchalantly as if the answer was obvious.

“Oh,” it was more of a whisper than a response, but it was all you could offer as you reached for the bottle and poured another shot of the whiskey.

Relishing in the burn it left as it cascaded down your throat, you dared to ask the next logical question. Though, you didn’t know if you truly wanted an answer or not.

“So, if it wasn’t a demon, what was it? What is it? Why do you think it’s a curse? And who would want to curse my family?”

“We aren’t sure,” Sam answered this time, his brow furrowed, facial expression wrought with concern. “I know this is a lot to take in, but now that you know, maybe you can help us.”

After talking it over with them for another hour, Sam excused himself to the boathouse to do a bit more research with the additional information you provided. Noticing Dean was quieter than you’d known him to be, you leaned forward and gazed at him intently.

“So, monsters, huh?”

“You got no idea how many are really out there, sweetheart.”

“Tell me. I want to know all of it.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, leaning forward on his side of the table, his bright green eyes softly taking you in. “There’s so much ugly out there, Y/N. So much. If you don’t have to know it or see it, don’t.”

“But you do. Why?”

“Because it’s my job. It’s our lives. There’s nothing else I am meant to do but this.”

“Don’t you get to have a life though? At what point do you get to do something for yourself?”

Dean laughed and poured himself a shot, then offered you another. Nodding, you gently pushed your glass closer. Throwing back the drink, he winced a little before resting the glass back on the oak table.

Licking the rest of the liquor from his bottom lip, he smirked at you before finally answering. “You don’t. In this life, you don’t get normal. Don’t get me wrong, people try. But usually, it ends in spectacular fashion.”

You watched him carefully, seeing a spark of sadness flash in his eyes. Dean and Sam had been on the property for a few weeks, but this was the first time you felt like you were seeing the real Dean. In that hazy drunk moment, you wanted nothing more than to be close to him.

Getting up from your side of the table, you slid onto the bench beside him. Catching him off guard, Dean sat up a little and smiled at you softly, happily surprised at your boldness.

“That just doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not, but that’s the job.”

You wanted to kiss him. It was probably a bad idea, but in that moment, you didn’t care. Before you realized what was happening, your hand was on the side of his face, pulling his lips to yours.

Dean kissed you without hesitation. His hand on your neck in an instant, fingers tangled up into your hair. The deeper he kissed you, the more you could taste the whiskey on his tongue. There was a greediness in the way he held you and drank you in.

Your head was swimming in the feelings growing from every corner of your body; your heart pounding, causing a pulsating rush through your veins. Dean was setting you on fire from the inside out merely with the pull of his perfectly formed lips.

Dean moaned lightly into your mouth as his hand roughly slid down the length of your body, finally coming to rest on your thigh. He squeezed it hungrily as his other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder, pulling you nearly onto his lap.

Breathless, you pulled back from him for a moment and saw everything you needed to. He wanted you as badly as you wanted him, but he also seemed as apprehensive as you felt, too.

“This took a turn,” you said trying to break the tension.

“A welcomed one,” he chuckled, starring you down and begging with his eyes for more of you. “Unless—”

“No,” you cut him off immediately. “A very welcomed one.”

xxx

“Such a welcomed turn,” you whispered to no one, as you came back from the memory while sitting outside of Manny’s Diner.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could still taste the whiskey on him from that night. In that moment, you desperately wished that Manny’s had liquor, because a shot of something sounded awfully good.

That night at the bar kicked off weeks of afternoon trysts and late-night getaways in his Impala. Never before had sex been as good, nor as much fun, as it was with Dean. He was gentle, yet passionate, always considerate of your comfort and completion.

When you weren’t sneaking off with Dean, you were helping them with the case they were working. Hitting dead end, after dead end, you could tell they were getting frustrated, yet Dean continued to insist on working the case until they figured it out. It was obvious to Sam you were the reason he wanted to stay, and at first it didn’t seem to phase him. But after a few more weeks, Sam suggested it was time to move on.

“Maybe it would have been better if you left then” you mused, again, to no one. “Would it have been? I didn’t love him at that point… we hadn’t said it yet. If they would have just left before that night Harris died… then…”

Your vision became blurry with tears, and you realized that even if you never did see Dean again, that you would choose him to stay every single time. Because the time you did have together, were the best weeks of your life.

“I just think we’re spinning our wheels here, man,” Sam argued; his arms wide, his tone incredulous.

“I don’t. I think there’s something happening here and maybe we just have to wait for it.”

“Wait for it?” Sam snorted a laugh through his nose. “Wait for it… Dean, when have we ever just sat around and waited for something to happen? You know as well as I do that whatever’s been happening here, as either stopped or slowed down. If someone else turns up dead, we can always come back. But, we’ve got nothing… no leads, no ideas.”

“Fine,” Dean relented, casting a pitiful glance in your direction. “But the second, something feels fishy around here, we are coming right back.”

“Of course,” Sam said, his eyes daring glance at you. “Dean, I get why—”

“Don’t, Sammy. Just, don’t.”

After Sam had left, Dean wrapped his arms around you and drew you in as close as he could. “You know I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” you sighed into his chest. “But, Sam’s right. You have to.”

“I hate leaving behind here. I’m constantly going to worry that this damn Casper is going to target you next. The fact that we can’t figure out who it is, its driving me nuts.”

“I know,” you repeated and nuzzled your face lightly against the material of his dark green Henley. “But I can keep digging—”

“No,” he said sharply, jerking you out of his embrace, his hands tight on your shoulders. “No, I don’t want you doing anything. Except maybe leave. Go back home to your apartment. Anything. Just, don’t stay here and stay out of the haunting.”

“But, Dean, you’ve taught me enough that I can do this.”

“Y/N, please. I can’t be out there doing my job, worrying about what’s happening to you here.”

“Dean—”

“No! See, this is why I don’t do this; why this is too fucking hard.”

“Do what?”

“Relationships… fall in love…” he froze at the words as they fell from his lips.

“You… you love me?” you could feel your heart starting to pound in your chest, your mouth suddenly dry.

Dean didn’t respond with any words of affirmation, instead, his expression turned serious making you feel truly nervous for the first time since learning the truth of their presence. Tentatively, Dean leaned closer to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as his calloused hand gently caressed the side of your face.

“Dean,” you moaned into him, “…do you…”

“Yes,” he murmured and kissed you deeply before you could say anything again.

The buzz of his cell phone pulled you both from the moment. When he saw it was Sam, he pulled away to answer and hung his head, shaking it lightly as he listened to whatever news his brother delivered.

“What is it?” you asked the second he ended the call.

“Harris is dead,” Dean said, “I’m so sorry. I know you guys weren’t close, but he’s family—”

“Harris… oh, my God. How?”

“I’m not sure. Sammy just made it up to the main house and saw the cops were there. I should go see what’s going on.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No, Y/N. Stay here, please. It’s safer for you here in the boathouse.”

“Dean, I’m coming,” you said forcefully. “He’s my family and I want to know what happened.”

Resigned to your decision, Dean reached out and took your hand as you left the boathouse and headed towards the scene.

xxx

You tried to wipe the image of Harris’ lifeless form from your memory and just concentrate on Dean. But Harris’ death was really the end of it. As much as you hated to remember it, it was his death that marked the beginning of the end of Dean’s time with you

That night, after seeing what happened to him in the garage with the power tools, Dean and Sam were both convinced that they had finally found the connection between the deaths and the spirit causing them. A gold chain that Harris wore, had been made from the same ornate gold family heirloom necklace that other jewelry had been forged from. Jewelry that was then divided among the members of your family.

Shaking off the memory of the case itself, you just wanted to concentrate on that last night you had with Dean. Laying in bed with him in your room at the main house, you smiled as you allowed yourself to remember how it felt being so close to him.

 

xxx

 

Dean tucked a stray hair behind your ear, gently tracing the lines of your cheekbone before allowing his fingers to slide down your neck, coming to rest on that soft spot between your neck and chest.

“This is cliché as hell, but, am I going to see you again?” You didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment, but your anxiety was growing the closer it came to sunrise.

“I want that,” he said, a soft smile playing on the corner of his mouth. “I want that, a lot.”

“How? When?”

“I don’t know. Somehow, I hope. Not seeing you again isn’t an option Y/N. This is more to me than just some random hook up. This time here with you, it’s the closest thing to a life I could’ve asked for.”

“Then, stay… stay here with me for a while. Once all of this business is sorted with the house and property, we can go anywhere you like. I’ll learn to hunt and go with you—”

“No, no way,” his expression was stern and uncompromising. “I will not pull you into this life.”

“You didn’t, this bullshit with the necklace did; my family did. You are just guiding me through it. Dean, don’t you get it? I love you. I want to be with you. Anything I had before this, doesn’t matter. You’re what matters to me.”

“I can’t stay, Y/N. I want too, I do—”

“I get it, Dean. I do. And I have to stay here… so, I guess it’s goodbye, for now.”

The words were harder to say than you thought they’d be, but you managed to say them without crying. Dean drew you into him and rested his chin on the top of your head, lightly running his fingers along your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Alright, so, we make a plan. You do you, and I’ll go do me, and in, say, six months we pick a time and place to meet.”

“Six months?”

“Yeah, six months. Me and Sam, we have some things we have to finish up, but we need time. Once it’s done, I’m done.”

“Done with hunting? You’d consider that?”

The idea of Dean not being a hunter didn’t sit right with you. That’s who he was; what he was. It was one of the things you loved most about him.

“For you, I would. Maybe we go and try that whole normal, having a life thing for a while,” he said, though his tone was sarcastic, his expression was soft and wistful. “You know if you are into that kind of thing.”

Rolling your body on top of Dean’s, you hovered your face over his and leaned down to kiss him. The shift of your body on his caused his erection to return, pressing into the top of your thigh, and bringing back your own desire to have him again.

Biting his lower lip, his hands went straight to your hips, moving you directly over his cock and you were more than ready to take him.

“Again? Already?” you purred, as he ever-so-slowly slipped himself into you.

“If I gotta wait six months to have you again, you better believe I’m making the most of tonight,” Dean growled and used his hands to slam your hips down hard against him.

Grinding against him, making his head fall back onto the pillow, his eyes closed, groans of pleasure escaping his lips was how you decided you wanted to remember him. The way he was with you in this moment; completely free and vulnerable, and lost in being with you.

Feeling the rise of your second orgasm nearing with each pass of his thumb over your clit, you let yourself get carried away by the euphoric sensation of him deep inside you, filling you up more and more with each thrust of his hips.

Panting your name, his movements became more erratic and you could feel him begin to throb inside you just as your own walls fluttered around him. Dean shot up, burying his face in your chest as his hands wrapped around your back, nails digging into your flesh.

Nuzzling your face into Dean’s hair, you took in a deep breath of him and tried desperately to imprint it in your memory. Six months felt like an eternity, but if you knew then you wouldn’t seem for at least double that time, you may have stayed entangled with him like that for much longer.

After, as you lay there together until the sun came up, Dean made you a list of emergency numbers for both him and Sam and his friend Castiel. Still trying to wrap your head around the idea of angels, and angels having cellphones no less, you accepted it with a smile, promising you’d call if there was a problem.

You made arrangements to meet up in six months at a place halfway between Lawrence and Green Bay, a little diner you both happened to know called Manny’s. It was one of the first things you realized you had in common, so it seemed like the obvious place to meet.

“Six months, at Manny’s, right?”

“Mhm, we’ll get some pie,” he smiled playfully, tucking the hair behind your ear again. “We’ll eat pie and figure out what our normal looks like.”

“I like the sound of that,” you said softly, feeling exhaustion begin to take hold. Closing your eyes early that morning you once again made sure to imprint on your memory how he felt, his stubble against your cheek, the roughness of his fingers against your soft curves. Smiling, you drifted off to sleep with the certainty that this wouldn’t be your last night curled up with Dean Winchester.

xxx

The rain started to come down in sheets, pounding hard enough against the roof of the Camaro for you to snap out of the hazy memories and back to the present. The neon lights of Manny’s Diner were dulled against the torrential downpour. You wanted to get away from the taunting flicker of the ‘Y’ in the sign, as you felt like it was calling YOU out for believing he would show up this time.

You wanted to put Manny’s in your rearview, and vow to never return, but you knew you would. You would show up every six months until you saw him again and he told you to fuck off, or you found out why he never called or showed.

After he missed the first time, he at least called. He needed more time and refused to come to you until he could do so as a free man. Six more months… you came and waited. He never showed; he never called. All the numbers were disconnected, all traces of the mysterious Dean Winchester seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth.

This was the third attempt and once again, no Dean. You couldn’t help but think that some terrible fate had befallen him. Maybe their plan failed. Maybe some random monster took him out because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe a demon finally fulfilled the bounty on his head.

All these thoughts were becoming too much, and you felt claustrophobic in the car. Deciding another round of coffee and pie at Manny’s was better than sitting in the Camaro and thinking of horrible ways for Dean to die, you turned off the car and made a mad dash for the door.

Nodding at the familiar face of the waitress, she motioned for you to go back to your previous booth in the back of the diner. Shaking off the rain you slid into the seat and pulled out a few quarters from your pocket. Turning to the small jukebox on the table, you popped in two coins and went to your signature choice, A5.

Within seconds, ‘With or Without You’ piped through the tinny speakers, Bono’s voice just loud enough for you to make out the lyrics. The waitress came with the coffee and a slice of chocolate cream pie without even being asked.

“Thanks,” you said as she placed it on the table.

“Still no show, huh darlin’?”

“No. I’m done waiting. I’m just going to let the rain clear and be on my way.”

“Ain’t that a shame. Seems like y’all lovebirds were meant to be,” she smiled wistfully and rested a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “You hang in there honey, this round’s on me.”

She gave you a wink and waddled off to her scant group of customers at the other end of the restaurants.

Turning your attention back to the song, the same one you played every time you sat in the far corner booth waiting for Dean, you went about preparing your coffee. Just as you were about to take a sip, the ding of the bell from the front door rang making you glance up just long enough to see a familiar face standing in the doorway.

Sam Winchester stood there, soaking wet from the rain, his eyes wide and scanning the diner for…. Upon spotting you, a large grin spread across his face. Slowly, you stood up from your booth, using the table to support yourself.

“Y/N… you’re here!” Sam said excitedly, embracing you as he reached the table.

You tried your best to smile in return, genuinely happy to see him, but…

“Sam… where’s Dean?”

Before Sam could answer, the front door bell jingled again, and this time it was Dean’s smiling face that came in soaked from the weather. Pushing past Sam you darted towards the entrance.

Dean had his arms open, ready for you and all the force you used to throw yourself into him. You squeezed him tighter than you thought humanly possible, but the more you realized he was really, truly there, the harder your arms embraced him.

“I can’t believe it…”

“Me either,” he said, his fingers frantically tracing the lines of your neck and shoulders, face and hair. “You’re here. You’re real.”

“You have no idea the thoughts I had… you just disappeared!”

“I know, I’m, sorry. It’s, uh… it’s been a year.”

“Dean…” you really didn’t know what to say, didn’t have anything to say. You just wanted to kiss him and feel him against you again.

You hesitated only for a second, before grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. Just like the first time you kissed at the bar back home, he didn’t hesitate in returning the gesture. Dean lifted you up off your feet and he kissed you as deeply and passionately as you had dreamed of him doing nearly every night for the last year and a half.

Resting his forehead against yours, you could feel his smile against your lips.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner.”

“You’re here. That’s what matters. I kept trying to move on, but I couldn’t. Not without knowing one way or the other.”

“I’ll fill you in on everything, I promise. But right now, I just wanna sit down, drink some coffee and wrap an arm around you. It’s all I’ve thought about for months.”

“Me too,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

Grabbing your hand, he led you back to the booth you were in, and the minute you were settled into the seat, Dean put his arm snugly around you and didn’t take it away, until you left.


End file.
